


Forgive Me, My Darling

by SaintClaire



Category: Anna Karenina - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depressed Alexei, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintClaire/pseuds/SaintClaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter from Vronsky to Anna after her death, featuring mostly from the movie.  Alexei's pleas to a love one who can't hear him any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive Me, My Darling

**Author's Note:**

> All credit due to the appropriate authors/owners - I own nothing.

My Dearest Anna,

 

Anna, my darling. If only you would forgive me. You cannot, because you are dead, and I quite understand. I would die also, but I somehow believe that this is your punishment for me, to live in a world where you do not exist, where our daughter does, and knowing it is my fault.

My beautiful Anna. I have turned myself into a wreck since I last left you. My military career hangs in tatters, my mother can’t bear to be in my dilapidated presence. I have left the Princess Sorokina. Both her mother and mine were angrier than I have ever seen them, but I do not care. The venomous girl tried desperately to keep a smirk on her face as I left, insulting you, but I grew so angry I threw a vase at the wall behind her head, where it shattered. She did smirk at me again after that. The venomous child now beds officers all of St Petersburg, much to the disgust of the town. They have found their new scandal now. I wish you could take comfort in the fact I did not lie with her, but should you still be alive I doubt your paranoia would allow it. I am sorry, my darling. I know you were sick, sick with fear and other troubles of the mind that plagued you after Annie’s birth. I was too lost in my own life to help you with yours. I accept this punishment. Every day I live without you is a torment, and barely an hour goes by when I do not picture your face, blank where you lay still across the train track.

Did you know I was there Anna? Did you know I fell to my knees in the dust and blood and sobbed, for all the world to see? I held your beautiful hand and I cried beside you, for Russia’s light has grown ever dimmer since you have left for heaven. I am certain that is where you are. You did everything ever expected of you in your life, and then fell passionately in love. If God thinks any less of you, for being helpless to a blizzard of your own emotions and mine, then he is a fool. But you are in heaven, my love.

You rest upon the clouds, seated with the Angels and yet you outshine them all. Though Russia’s skies have grown dark, heaven is all the more radiant for you being there, and my greatest misery is that I am not with you. I will live Anna, in acceptance of my sin, and your punishment. But I long for the day when I may sit beside you on those golden clouds, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to atone for my sins so I may join you.

Our daughter does not live with me. She lives in Karenin’s household, and I understand she is tended to by your son and his old nurse. I could not keep her Anna, I am sorry. She is so similar to you, her goodness shines for the world to see. It is painful even to look upon her beautiful face. But she will have a better life if she grows under Karenin’s name and influence than she would with a fool like me.

I would give everything to have you back with me Anna. I would run, run with you to the furthest corners of the earth, where the ocean streams over the edge of the world and we would be lost to everyone. I would dig up the sea floor, take every pearl from an oyster until there would be enough to make a dress out of them for you. I can see you dancing in it, spinning around and around, laughing, the pearls throwing off light from the crystal chandeliers that would line our ballrooms. We could be wherever you wanted, have whatever you wanted, and I would take both your son and our daughter with us, if only you would come back to me.

You were buried with such dignity Anna. All of your old friends, your family, your brother turned out to pay their respects to you at your funeral. They miss you. The women cried into their handkerchiefs as your son read his speech, and even the men were constantly clearing their throats. Your son is growing into a fine young man. You would be so proud of him Anna, he is a most perfect young gentleman. He stood strong at the funeral, tightly clutching his young sister. Around her delicate neck was the most beautiful of your necklaces, the one you were wearing the very first time we danced. Diamond roses, completely inappropriate and unnecessary for such a young girl to be wearing, but my guess is that it was Karenin paying his respects to you in his own way. If I am to say nothing else of him, I will say this, he does dote upon your namesake.

Your brother pays visits to me, so that we might talk of you. Your childhood, your girlhood, happy memories that might have been lost in those dusty attics of time. Dances and babies and nights sneaked out on the town, old houses filled with all the pomp and ceremony of a French palace, that you would laugh at as you skipped by. Memories that show you in all your glory, beauty and strength. They will never be lost now Anna. I will never let them be lost, and if I could I would show them to the world. I will keep them with me, always.

I ride in December for the war. My life has started with the militia and I will end it with the militia. This war is a sad thing, and many of the men who leave do not return. I will not leave hoping to die, but I cannot say I will not welcome the prospect when it catches me. All I want is to see you. I have to be where you are.

I write this letter to you knowing I will never send it. I will hold it to the wind later, in the hope that the breeze might take the words to heaven so that you might read them. When I have done that, I will fold this letter, and take it with me to the war, along with a red feather. The feather that fluttered from your hair as the breeze swept along the railway track, where I knelt, holding your hand.

Forgive me Anna. Forgive me.

 

I love you,

Alexei Vronsky


End file.
